


Fallen Angel

by PurpleArrowzandLeather



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angeal is the god of patience, Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Captivity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Genesis doesn't know how to deal with emotions, Hurt/Comfort, Rescue Missions, Sane Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), Sephiroth whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArrowzandLeather/pseuds/PurpleArrowzandLeather
Summary: Sephiroth has been missing for weeks, kidnapped by Wutai. What Angeal and Genesis find upon rescuing him draws further concern for the young SOLDIER.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 82





	Fallen Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. Just a fic writer with some feels to share.

Angeal stares at the door to the lab, hoping against all odds that Sephiroth will be inside. He went missing weeks ago, swept away somehow by Wutai scientists. He had looked about half-delirious as they dragged him into a helicopter, pumped full of sedatives of some kind or another. Angeal can’t imagine the dosage needed for that, let alone to knock him out completely. 

The comms crackle to life. “ _I’ve searched the upper floors. Have you found the lab?”_

Genesis may not sound nervous, but Angeal senses it as clearly as his own. “I found it, but I haven’t infiltrated. Want me to wait up?” 

“ _Will it impede the mission?”_

“No, but hurry. I don’t want to wait around any longer than necessary.” 

The three of them have worked together a long time, brothers in their own right. Sephiroth doesn’t trust easily, and it took more than a little work to get past his walls. Angeal and Genesis aren’t about to betray him by leaving him with Wutai. He doesn’t have family that they know of, but they’ve - in a way – adopted Sephiroth as the middle child. The cocky, rambunctious, and arrogant middle child. 

Angeal gives Genesis directions down to the lab, anxiously waiting. 

Genesis approaches with the light sound of boots on metal. He looks to Angeal with concern on his face, but confidence as well. “Any movement inside the lab?” 

“Nope. No indication they’re aware of a breach.” 

“Good.” 

Genesis may appear cold and sometimes is a little jealous, but he genuinely cares about their companion’s well-being. He doesn’t like to appear weak, and a lot of the time he comes off as an asshole for the sake of his pride. 

The two of them enter, creeping silently into the room. 

“I count seven scientists.” 

“Eleven, and two guards on the catwalks.” Angeal points them out. 

Genesis nods, leaping up to the catwalks where the first guard is. Angeal crosses the room, keeping to the shadows and doing the same. The black-haired SOLDIER gives the signal, both of them clapping a hand over a guard’s mouth and running him through. 

Within a minute, they take down the scientists, searching stasis pods and display cases for Sephiroth. 

Angeal reaches a railing, peering down into the lower section of the room. “Split level.” he murmurs. He calls to Genesis. “Headed down. We’ve got more observation chambers.” 

Genesis confirms, checking through the last sector on the upper floor while Angeal continues on his own seeking. His keen eyes hunt for Sephiroth with almost desperate urgency. They’ve searched four different facilities already, all with the hope that they didn’t dispose of the silver-haired SOLDIER. If he escaped, he’d be more trouble than he was worth just to contain him again. 

But if he never escaped.... 

Angeal shakes himself, continuing in his search. He’s starting to wonder if this facility is another bust when he reaches a cell in the far back, the glass marred by scratches and cracks. 

“ _Sephiroth.”_

The silver-haired SOLDIER hangs by his hands, metal casings with thick chains securing them at the end of his reach. Dried blood in thick trails is prominent along his arms. It almost conceals the IV line stuck in his skin – sedatives, most likely. The rest of him dangles limply, his proud head tipped down against his chest. Sephiroth is thin. His hair is in a tight braid, looped around his neck to keep it out of the way. The scientists have kept him clean-shaven, but his usually-perfect hair is matted down and oily. Sephiroth’s skin is pale, which Angeal can only see because his clothes are gone. They had the courtesy to leave his undergarments. A longer look reveals dark bruising around his left ankle. _He couldn’t run even if he wanted to._

Angeal stares. 

“ _Angeal_ _? Any luck?”_

“I, um....” Angeal swallows. He shakes his head, having no words to describe what he’s seeing. He doesn’t _want_ to describe what he’s seeing. That would make it real. “You’d better get down here.” 

Genesis leaps over the railing instead of using the stairs, running to Angeal’s side. He freezes, a trembling breath dropping from his lips. 

“ _By the goddess.”_

Angeal brings himself to move first, finding the keys for the chamber and opening it. The air inside smells of blood, sweat, and something distinctly like salt. Tears? Angeal glances back at Genesis, the youngest of their group remaining outside the tank. He forces himself to move forward, lifting a hand to Sephiroth’s throat. 

The man groans, so quietly Angeal barely hears it. He makes an almost imperceptible attempt to pull away and Angeal realizes his eyes are half-lidded. They’re unseeing for the time being, glazed with the effect of the drugs. 

He’s conscious. 

“Sephiroth, can you hear me?” 

A labored breath heaves from his chest. Nothing happens as a result, Angeal slowly realizing it was an effort to lift his head. The black-haired SOLDIER tips Sephiroth’s chin up, a pained noise following the action. He resists the urge to let go, knowing sudden motion will only serve to make the pain worse. Even so, the younger struggles to keep his eyes open. 

Angeal tugs the IV from his arm, pulling a bandage from his supplies and securing it around his forearm. Sephiroth lets out a weak grunt as his wrist is jostled and Angeal frowns. 

“Do you know who I am?” Angeal whispers, trying not to alarm Genesis. “Just, um.... Close your eyes for ‘yes.’ I’ll get you out of here either way.” 

The struggle to keep his eyes open ends. Angeal quiets him, gently brushing a hand against his face to let Sephiroth know he means no harm. At this point, Sephiroth would take the out whether he knew the person rescuing him or not. Deception for personal benefit has never fazed him, so it’s safer to assume he’s lying. 

“Steady, my friend.” 

Angeal searches for the release mechanism, carefully directing Genesis to the control panel when he finds it. “When I’m ready, I need you to hit the release. Okay?” 

Genesis clenches his jaw, nodding. His expression is carefully blank. 

Angeal returns to the chamber, finding Sephiroth with his eyes open again. They’re still tired and half-lidded, glassy and confused. Angeal exercises caution while preparing to catch him, searching for any other bruises he should be aware of to avoid hurting his friend. 

“I’m moving into your blind spot. Just stay calm.” 

Sephiroth doesn’t move. Angeal wasn’t really expecting him to, but he wanted to let the man know all the same. 

All he finds are cuts and bruises, but he’s going to be careful anyway. There may or may not be underlying issues, and he’d hate to end up killing Sephiroth by accident – especially when they just found him after weeks of searching. 

“I’m going to catch you when Genesis hits the release. Don’t struggle, all right? No matter how much it hurts.” 

_Please, don’t struggle._ Angeal prays. 

The black-haired SOLDIER wraps an arm around Sephiroth’s waist, not liking the clammy feel of his skin. He hopes Sephiroth isn’t sick on top of everything else, but he knows the scientists had no regard for his well-being based off of everything he’s seen already. Angeal wouldn’t put it past them. 

“Genesis.” 

Angeal hears him hit the release, Sephiroth slumping into his grip as limp as a ragdoll. The chains rattle, sliding against the ground when the silver-haired man’s hands drop. He whines, but remains still just as Angeal had asked. 

The black-haired man looks outside the enclosure. Genesis takes a step closer before stopping, containing himself yet again. Angeal doesn’t force him to join them in the chamber, knowing he’ll come when he’s ready to face the reality of his friend’s state. He’d do it if asked, but giving him space to reel in his anger is the safest option. 

Angeal turns his attention back to Sephiroth, crouching down and leaning him against the side of the enclosure. The half-conscious SOLDIER’s mouth pulls into a grimace. 

“Still doing all right?” 

Sephiroth doesn’t respond, his eyes revealing nothing when they close again. Or closing them still means ‘yes.’ The oldest of the three isn’t quite sure. 

“All right. Let’s check these out.” Angeal murmurs, picking up one of Sephiroth’s encased hands. 

The silver-haired SOLDIER grunts, a strong twitch of muscle indicating another attempt to pull away. He doesn’t have the energy to speak, but Angeal can sense Sephiroth urging him to be careful. 

“Okay. Nice and easy.” 

Angeal looks the first sheath over, finding a cotter pin holding the two pieces together. He pulls it out, pushing on the small segment holding the cuff closed until Sephiroth chokes back another quiet grunt. The black-haired man stops, lifting the younger’s wrist to look at the underside of the cuff. What he sees is almost enough to make him sick. 

The “small segment” is a sharpened bolt – _through_ Sephiroth’s wrist. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to get these off you.” He looks down at the silver-haired SOLDIER’s ankle, frowning. “And I’ll have to set that.” 

Sephiroth takes it all surprisingly well, but he’s still only half-awake thanks to the sedatives. It can only be a blessing at this point, Angeal supposes. He pulls out a healing materia, pressing it between Sephiroth’s hands as gently as possible. 

“Steady. It’ll only hurt a little longer.” 

The holes heal slowly, skin knitting back together with the help of the mako. The coloring around his ankle improves until it’s almost normal. Sephiroth would heal fairly quickly on his own, but he could use the help right now. 

He’ll still be sore for some time, but there’s nothing either of them can do about that. 

“How is he?” 

Genesis. 

Angeal shifts, his blue eyes meeting Genesis’s. “It’s hard to say. The materia has done its work, but there’s no telling what’s going on in his head. I don’t even know if he knows it’s us. He’s still delirious with sedatives.” 

Sephiroth drops the healing materia, the little orb rolling towards Genesis. The auburn-haired SOLDIER picks it up, kneeling on Sephiroth’s left. He watches his injured brother with caution. 

“He’s trying to say something.” Angeal says lowly, clasping one of Sephiroth’s hands in his. 

The smell of fresh salt hits the air and Genesis wipes the tears from his eyes. 

“ _F-files.”_

Angeal nods. If Sephiroth says they kept information on him, then they did. “Genesis, you stay with him. I’ll find the data and destroy it. Don’t try to move him just yet.” 

While Angeal searches, Genesis, pulls Sephiroth’s hair from around his neck. The plain rubber-band is tight, but Genesis is determined to be careful. His friend doesn’t show any indication of knowing what he’s up to, still slumped against the glass casing of the chamber with his eyes barely open. Sephiroth looks tired, so different from his normal stature. Genesis would never admit it aloud, but it’s frightening. 

“With any luck, Angeal will bring your armor back with him.” Genesis mutters, still pulling silver hairs softly from the braid. It may be tight, but it’s not neat. Twists and knots mar the usually-soft strands, their texture gross. “Look at this mess.” 

Sephiroth doesn’t react. 

“Don’t worry.” Genesis hums, his tone kinder than he’s ever let it be. “We’ll get you home and cleaned up. We won’t let this pass unchecked.” 

“Genesis.” 

He turns. “Did you find the files?” 

“Yeah. I took all the data from their current reports as well. The blood samples are scheduled to be destroyed. I also checked inventory records while I was accessing the system and located his clothing. It’s in a marked bin in the armory with his subject number.” 

No name. Just a number. 

Genesis sees the contained fury in Angeal’s eyes. His protective instincts have always been that of a father when it comes to the two of them, so it’s no surprise he has vengeance written in his posture. But, ever-stoic and mission-oriented, he pushes his feelings aside, waiting for his friend to respond. 

“Let’s move.” Genesis answers. 

Angeal crouches down, passing Genesis his sword and carefully pulling Sephiroth onto his back. The man is limp as before, but with his arms over Angeal’s shoulders and Angeal’s grip tight under his thighs, he won’t slip loose. 

“Lead the way, Genesis.” 

Sephiroth lets go of a low moan, his arms tensing as he tries to adjust himself. Angeal does his best to comply with the demand, hefting the man a bit higher on his back. The silver-haired man clearly doesn’t like being carried. They don’t have another option aside from dragging, and that’s not happening. 

“We’re almost to the armory.” Angeal says. 

Genesis hums in confirmation, turning when Angeal directs and entering the desired room. He grabs Sephiroth’s clothes and then quickly moves for the exit. Angeal senses his urgency, knowing he’s correct in assuming they don’t have time to dress their companion. If security notices what happening, they could ruin everything. 

If Sephiroth was aware of the discourtesy, he’d hate it. As it is, he likely doesn’t realize anything other than the cold. He always despises being cold. 

“ _An..._ _geal_ _?”_

“Yeah, it’s me. Genesis is just ahead of us. Do you remember what happened?” 

Sephiroth whispers his name again, still out of it. Angeal was hoping he’d wake up a bit more once the sedative drip was gone, but whatever it was must’ve been heavy stuff. 

Surprisingly, the three of them don’t run into any trouble. 

Angeal hates that his instincts are screaming “suspicious” even though he knows they had a perfect infiltration. He only relaxes once they reach their escape route, a pair of Shinra guards waiting with the helicopter. They’re new recruits, but good people. 

They don’t look back to check on the three of them, keeping their eyes dead ahead when ordered to do so. Angeal and Genesis work quickly to clothe their friend to keep him from prying eyes when they arrive at HQ. The last thing they want to have is rumors spreading around. Sephiroth would bear them with a careless shrug and a smile, but inside his own mind, he would hate himself for appearing weak. 

People see Sephiroth in many different roles, but _weak_ and _helpless_? He wouldn’t know what to do with the description. 

Aside from the fact that he’s pale as a sheet and unconscious, he looks almost like his old self now. Almost, because he’s thin enough to be noticeable. He’s also missing his sword, since it’s currently in its sheath inside Angeal’s quarters. That they got Sephiroth away from it in the first place would have been a miracle for Wutai in more ways than one. 

Genesis settles into a seat, taking a cue from Angeal to sleep when the older SOLDIER asks it of him. He doubts he’ll get any good rest, but he’ll get rest of some form or another. 

Angeal watches over the both of them, Sephiroth resting between his knees on the floor. The flight home is a few long hours, so they’ll both have a chance to recover. He cards light fingers through the man’s hair, careful to fix it when he finds snarls. It’s safe to say he’s never seen Sephiroth’s hair so far from perfection. 

The seasoned SOLDIER jumps in surprise when cold fingers snatch his arm. 

Normally, he’d be wearing gloves, but Angeal thought it best not to pressure his hands. Dried blood remains crusted on his flesh. Still, Sephiroth’s nails are digging into his skin, their edges hard enough to leave impressions. Frail as he appears, his hands are still strong. He hasn’t moved otherwise, still and quiet aside from the tension in his shoulders and the tremor of his heartbeat. 

“Sephiroth?” 

His breath catches and his grip loosens, long fingers sliding limply away from the older man’s arm. The silver-haired SOLDIER clearly isn’t aware of what’s happening, a soft and inquisitive noise leaving his throat. 

“Easy, Sephiroth. It’s all right. We’re headed back to HQ.” Angeal says, making an effort to ease his friend’s concerns. 

Instead of trying to wake him up further, Angeal pulls back the collar of his leather jacket enough to massage the base of his neck. It’s always put him to sleep in the past; he’d deny it, but it’s true. He’s aware of the low-key manipulation involved, but he wants Sephiroth to be calm. He only allows things like this when he feels completely safe. 

It may not fool his mind, but his relaxing form seems convinced. 

With his tension easing, Angeal finds it possible to take a breath. If Sephiroth woke up confused and decided he was in danger, destroying a helicopter would not be out of the question. The three of them would survive the landing, no doubt, but the two recruits in the pilots’ seats wouldn’t be so lucky. 

Both Sephiroth and Genesis are quiet for the remainder of the trip. 

Genesis rouses when the helicopter slows, giving himself a subtle shake and pawing a hand through his hair. “I see we’ve arrived without incident. Anything interesting happen while I was out?” The words are almost without expression, but Angeal knows he’d want to be informed of any change in Sephiroth’s condition. Whether he shows it or not, he cares deeply. 

Angeal turns his arm over to show Genesis the small bruises from Sephiroth’s grip. “Nothing too dramatic. He wasn’t fully conscious. Just nervous, I think.” 

Under normal conditions, the first thing they would do is take him to the medical bay. Unfortunately, the last thing Sephiroth would want is to wake up in anything resembling a lab. All their work to get him back under the impression of safety would be for nothing. 

“His room?” 

Angeal nods. “Let’s avoid cameras along the way.” 

Genesis hums, ordering the two recruits to stay with the helicopter until someone comes to relieve them. Angeal picks Sephiroth up, resituating him when he tries to adjust himself again. 

The trip to the silver-haired SOLDIER’s room amounts to a short stroll compared to the lengthy mission of rescuing him, almost anti-climactic. 

“Genesis, get those pillows.” 

The auburn-haired man moves quickly, making no effort like he otherwise might to appear unhurried. Angeal carefully lowers his companion onto the bed, leaning him against the wall so they can work on waking him up. 

“Water?” 

The black-haired SOLDIER nods, casting his gaze around the room for a glass. “That’s a good idea. We’ll have to flush the drugs from his system anyway, so he needs to hydrate.” 

“I’ll find something.” 

“All right. I’ll bring him around if I can.” 

Genesis doesn’t like the foreboding around those words, so he searches for a glass instead of thinking about it. If he can keep his mind occupied, he’ll be able to clear it and help Angeal. He’ll be able to help Sephiroth. 

All his years of being jealous of the “great war hero”, and here he is: barely responsive and thin as a rail. Genesis can’t help feeling childish – selfish, even. 

Across the room, Angeal is attempting to coax Sephiroth into a conscious state. Those green eyes, ever-so slightly slitted, open a little. Sephiroth is still tired-looking, but he’s a little stronger. Angeal takes one of his hands, putting light pressure on his wrist to bring him to alertness. The silver-haired man’s eyes open a little wider and he lifts his head. It’s clear he isn’t sure who’s in front of him at first. 

“ _Angeal_?”

“Yeah. It’s me. Genesis is here, too.” 

Sephiroth pulls his arm back a fraction of an inch, his long fingers gripping Angeal’s wrist as the older SOLDIER had done only moments before. He’s holding on tight, but not enough to hurt. His words are a quiet whisper. “ _Where are we?_ ”

“HQ, in your quarters.” 

The tell-tale scent of salt makes Sephiroth’s relief clear enough, tears beginning to slide down his pale cheeks. He certain Genesis can sense it from the bathroom where he’s now looking for a glass, SOLDIER perception being what it is. The auburn-haired man moves towards the kitchen area, taking a dreadfully long time to locate a glass to get away from Sephiroth’s blatant distress. 

Angeal takes off his gloves, placing a gentle hand on the side of his friend’s face and thumbing the tears away. “You’re safe.” 

Sephiroth doesn’t have much strength, but he leans into Angeal’s hand. 

The black-haired SOLDIER recognizes his need for contact and he moves over far enough to hug the younger man. Sephiroth allows it, letting his head drop against Angeal’s chest. He doesn’t weep. He doesn’t shake. He simply allows himself to exist within Angeal’s safe embrace. The occasional drip of hot liquid is his gratitude. 

“Did you want to get cleaned up?” 

His nod is almost imperceptible. 

The older man helps him get out of his clothes and into a pair of swim shorts, noticing the exact moment when Sephiroth catches sight of the blood along his arms. He curls his fingers, closing his eyes. 

“Come on.” Angeal murmurs, soft and reassuring. 

Sephiroth looks at the floor, gauging his own ability to walk. More likely, he’s deciding whether it’ll be more dignity-shredding to try to walk on his own and collapse or to just let Angeal carry him. He lands on the former. 

“ _I... don’t think I can walk._ ” he whispers, his voice seemingly unable to get louder. 

Angeal tries not to think about what they did to him to get this kind of response. What lengths did they go to just to figure out what made him tick? The question is almost enough to make Angeal sick. The black-haired SOLDIER pulls his too-skinny brother from the bed and into his arms. Sephiroth’s head falls against his chest again and he squeezes his eyes shut. He groans, still sore. 

“It’s not weakness to need help, Sephiroth.” 

_“Hmm.”_

Sephiroth is so frail compared to when they lost him all those weeks ago, his strength stripped from him by unknown experiments. He’s ailing, but until he regains mobility, he’ll see it as feebleness. 

Genesis enters the bathroom with a glass of water, crouching in front of Sephiroth when Angeal settles him on the stool next to the tub. Sephiroth’s head hangs low and his eyes are still closed. Genesis swells with sympathy, tipping his chin up. The war hero opens his eyes enough to rest his gaze on Genesis, the look cool and unperturbed. He’s adjusting quickly to the situation, even though he doesn’t like it. 

“Brought you some water. It’ll help.” 

The silver-haired SOLDIER manages a slight smile. “ _Thank you.”_

Genesis is unused to his quiet gratitude, even after years of working with him. He’s never been one to get wordy with his praise on the rare occasion it’s merited. Maybe that’s why Genesis appreciates it now in a way he hadn’t before. 

Even half-disabled by whatever was in the IV line, Sephiroth maintains his quiet grace. 

He drinks from the glass slowly, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in succession. Genesis nods approvingly when he finishes. Flushing the sedatives from his system is a top priority, but so is making sure he’s comfortable in his own skin. Cold, clammy, and bloody as he is now, the bath is right in order. 

“Do you want more?” 

Sephiroth hums, which Genesis interprets as a yes. 

Angeal turns from the tub, deeming it hot enough. He knows the silver-haired SOLDIER prefers scalding, but he doesn’t want the almost-searing heat to make him dizzy. Almost-burning will have to do. At least he won’t be cold. 

He watches as Genesis cares for Sephiroth, smiling subtly to himself. It’s hard for the youngest of their group to express his care, but the auburn-haired sibling of their group is doing well this time. 

The tub fills enough for Sephiroth to be submerged. The beast of a bathtub could fit two SOLDIERS his size comfortably, so it’s a wonder filling it didn’t take longer. Angeal shakes his head, picking Sephiroth up and easing him into the water. Genesis grabs his hair before it can touch the water, wanting the run a brush through it first. 

Wearing swim trunks and being skinny as he is, he looks like a bony teenager going to the pool. 

Sephiroth leans back against the sloping edge of the tub, looking on with vague disinterest as Angeal starts cleaning the blood from his skin. Instead, he opts to watch Genesis handle his hair. He’s struggling to hold it all, which brings an amused smirk to his face. He winces every once in a while when the younger finds knots and snarls, but other than that, he’s doing a decent job. He isn’t a fan of the amount of hair coming out, but it was bound to happen with the lack of care shown to it. 

Angeal is impressed by Sephiroth’s cooperation. By this point, if he’d been injured in a battle, he’d be hissing and spitting about taking care of himself. 

He’s putting forth effort to make this easy on them. 

The silver-haired SOLDIER curls the toes of his left foot, grimacing. The materia may have done its work, but the pain might persist for a few days. The hot water will help with the throbbing. 

Genesis finishes combing through the thick bundle of hair, Sephiroth taking his cue to get it wet. The water doesn’t want to stick because of all the oils, but he’s certain the younger will do his very best to get it clean. As much as it pains him to have weaknesses the size of Angeal and Genesis, he trusts them. 

They came for him. 

Sephiroth slides down into the water a little, closing his eyes. He winces instinctively when Angeal brushes over his wrists, the older man’s attention flicking to him every time. The pressure without pain earlier brought him to consciousness, but now it’s a tingling irritation. Still, he allows his mind to drift. Angeal and Genesis will care for him. 

There will be a report. He’ll have to tell them what happened eventually for the official record unless he wants to end up telling some random desk jockey. 

The director will assign him a psychiatrist. 

He’ll be on leave until he can prove he’s fit to be in the field again. 

Sephiroth sighs, dragging his eyes open again so he can stare at the ceiling and think. He’s already exhausted himself as far as movement, though he’s more mobile with every moment he’s awake. Angeal seems dead set on helping him get around, but he always makes sure to give him the choice first. At current, the decision is an easy one: be carried or fall on his face. He’ll be back on his feet soon, and he’s determined not to put so much on Angeal once he is. Genesis and his not-so hidden culinary skills will likely make an appearance. The way he helped Sephiroth drink only minutes ago had every indication of brotherly care. 

He refuses to put unnecessary pressure on them. 

Genesis taps his shoulder. 

“ _Hmm?_ ”

“Gotta wet it again so I can rinse the soap out and go for round two.” 

Sephiroth does as he’s told. 

In the end, the hair turns out to need three washes for the grime. Sephiroth isn’t surprised. It usually takes two on a normal day, and that’s _if_ he’s done a minimal amount of work. 

Once he’s finished, Angeal smirks. “And to think you do this every day.” 

Sephiroth resists the childish urge to stick his tongue out at him. 

Angeal places an almost paternal hand on Sephiroth’s head, smiling at him. There isn’t really a reason for it, but the silver-haired man leans into the touch a little anyway. “We’re glad you’re in one piece, Seph.” 

The middle sibling of their group narrows his eyes at Angeal. “ _Don’t call me that.”_

The older SOLDIER simply laughs. Genesis offers a quiet chuckle of his own, catching the hint of mirth in Sephiroth’s eyes. He knows they’re just trying to get him to loosen up. 

He huffs good-naturedly before frowning. 

Angeal tilts his head. “What is it?” 

Sephiroth is quiet for a long time, debating over whether or not he’s willing to share with them. He isn’t ready. He’s not willing to pull down his walls just yet. Sephiroth isn’t about to tear open his own wounds by broaching the topic of his captivity. “ _Nothing. I... don’t want to talk about it.”_

“All right, well.... For right now, since you’re all cleaned up, let’s start with some easy movement. You seem to be gaining back your mobility and I’d like to see you on your feet before you sleep.” 

Angeal puts him through a few dexterity tests, smiling more to himself than anyone else. Sephiroth has the majority of his motor control back. He’s just a little malnourished and more fragile than he’d admit. Whatever those scientists were doing to him involved far more than just taking him off the board for Shinra. Angeal won’t mention the reports he saw until Sephiroth is willing to share the details himself. There’s no telling how much of it he remembers, but there’s a good chance he does. 

Even with the sedative drip and his injuries inside the chamber, he was still conscious. Angeal can’t stop himself from wondering if they administered painkillers or just let him suffer. When they pushed the sharpened bolts through his wrists, did they just let him scream? 

For everything they did, Sephiroth was still awake. Did he have to endure the pain as well? 

Angeal has a strong stomach, but the question pushes him over the edge. He retreats to the toilet, heaving up everything in his stomach and then some. 

Sephiroth straightens in the water, his arms on the edge of the tub. He looks about half a second away from dragging himself over the tall rim and crawling over to see what's wrong with his friend. “ _Angeal_ _?_ ” 

Genesis drops a hand onto his shoulder, stopping him in his place. “He’ll be all right.” 

The black-haired SOLDIER spits, moving to the sink and rinsing his mouth out. He feels Sephiroth’s steady gaze on his back, almost as if the man is trying to read his mind. 

Luckily for all of them, he can’t. 

Sephiroth looks torn. Angeal doesn’t want to put anything on him, or to tell him that the cause of his sickness was the idea of him suffering. Sephiroth would only feel responsible and guilty. It’s not his fault. Until Sephiroth is back on his feet, Angeal is going to give everything he has to ensure he knows that. Sephiroth is strong enough to take the trauma and the physical damage. It’ll just take time to heal. 

“Let’s get you on your feet, eh?” 

The silver-haired SOLDIER frowns at the obvious change in subject, but he nods anyway. He allows Angeal to pull him from the water, sitting on the edge of the bathtub with nerves written in his expression. 

Angeal hides a tender smile, knowing it’ll only serve to embarrass Sephiroth. He lowers an arm into the man’s reach and waits patiently for him to get up. Genesis stands by the sink, waiting patiently on the off chance he stumbles forward. He’s hoping Sephiroth is sturdy enough to not need his help, but he wants to be ready, just in case. 

Sephiroth’s eyes narrow, determination filling them as he takes a breath. He puts his left hand on Angeal’s arm, keeping his weight off of it at the start. The silver-haired SOLDIER grimaces as he pushes off the edge of the tub. His shoulders and back are still sore. Angeal notices he’s resting his weight unevenly on his feet, still favoring his left ankle. He patiently waits for the man to continue at his own pace. Sephiroth has every right to be uneasy, even if he doesn’t want to be. 

He subtly chews the inside of his lip, moving to take a step. His legs feel like jell-o, almost as if they aren’t really attached to him. 

“Take it slow.” 

The silver-haired man grumbles under his breath, putting weight on his left foot. The ache that follows is deep and resounding but he doesn’t fall. Angeal lifts his arm a bit, reminding Sephiroth to take his assistance as needed. The younger huffs, taking another step. The pressure on his left eases as he continues. His ankle may not be broken anymore, but his body certainly wants to remind him to be careful. 

They make it out into the main room, Genesis arranging his pillows so he can sit upright in the bed. Sephiroth isn’t surprised. He doesn’t expect to sleep anytime soon, even if they don’t know it. 

“Angeal, if you’ll get him settled, I’ll make some soup.” 

“Not anything -” 

Genesis sighs, moving into the kitchen area. “Too strong. I know. Don’t tell me how to cook and maybe you won’t end up poisoned.” 

“Threatening me already?” 

Sephiroth smirks, his attention turning to the last twelve steps to the bed. Angeal ensures he gets there without falling, the silver-haired SOLDIER breathing hard as he settles onto it. He’s not used to being so easily fatigued. 

It’s not a feeling he likes. 

He sighs, closing his green eyes and patiently waiting for Genesis to finish the food. While not feeling especially hungry, the soup should help with the emptiness. The IV line the scientists had in his arm was his source of nutrients as well as the sedatives. They didn’t exactly discriminate, merely doing what needed to be done to keep him alive and to keep him docile.

“Sephiroth.” 

The man in question hums. 

“I know you don’t want to think about it, but I do need you to answer one thing before we get too far into your recovery.” Angeal pauses, almost not wanting to know. He grits his teeth, knowing it’ll be better for them to know now. “Did they try to condition you?” 

The silver-haired SOLDIER has no other way to answer other than honestly. “ _Yes.”_

“Do you know if it worked?” 

Sephiroth hums. “ _It didn’t. They tried to hypnotize me into forgetting the sessions.”_

Angeal chuckles. “That didn’t work, either, huh?” 

“ _No.”_

Sephiroth’s tone is wry, and Angeal is pleased by his response. He doesn’t have the energy to be anything but genuine, so it must be a relief. Angeal continues to reassure himself, checking the younger’s eyes and testing the feeling in his hands. The silver-haired SOLDIER debates over telling him about the irritating tingle where the bolts were. 

It exists as a mere reminder. While annoying, it won’t inhibit him. 

Before he knows it, Angeal’s hand comes to rest on the side of his face, drawing him to lean against it without thinking. With his eyes still closed, he doesn’t see the genuine fear for him in the black-haired SOLDIER’s eyes. He senses it all the same. 

“ _I’m just resting,_ _Angeal_ _. There is no reason for concern._ ” 

Sephiroth is aware of the oddness of his response to contact, but he doesn’t want it to disappear. The last thing he wants is to open his eyes and find his two friends gone. 

_Goddess, he doesn’t want to be alone._

He feels like a child for thinking it, but it’s the truth. 

Angeal doesn’t speak, allowing Sephiroth to choose when to move away – a mistake, considering he’s willing to stay there until the pain of wondering is almost unbearable. 

Still, when he opens his eyes and pulls away, Angeal remains sitting on the edge of the bed. Genesis continues to clatter around in the kitchen. The smells of food wafts towards the bedroom, his empty stomach twisting a little. The scent of his hair soap is strong and sweet - vanilla this time –, curling around his shoulders. It’s regrettable, the sheer amount required to wash the mass of hair, but completely worth it. 

He has a feeling Genesis very much intended to make him smell like cookies. 

Mission success. 

Angeal glances towards the kitchen, a glimmer of paternal care in his eyes. Sephiroth takes almost as much comfort from it as he does the touch Angeal seems determined to give. It’s difficult to determine whether said touch is for Angeal’s benefit or for his own, but he’d bet on both just to be safe. 

Soon enough, Genesis comes over with the soup. He settles down on the opposite side of Sephiroth, placing the bowl in his hands. They’re steady enough for the time being, so he sips from it unassisted. 

He finds himself warm and sleepy after drinking the soup, so the two healthy SOLDIERs get him situated. 

Angeal finds a light-weight cotton shirt for him to wear, turning his back to give him space to change into his undergarments as well. He should be comfortable enough, and if not, he’ll likely voice his complaints. 

Genesis disappears. Sephiroth keeps a watchful eye on the older SOLDIER, wondering if he’ll do the same. He doesn’t. Instead, Angeal finds a chair and pulls it over towards the wall. He’s still near to the bed, but not infringing on Sephiroth’s space. If he wakes up confused, the older is out of the silver-haired man’s reach. 

“Sleep, Sephiroth. We’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.” 

The man in question lifts a brow, smirking as he turns onto his side. He closes his eyes, falling into a light sleep. As the night progresses, his unconscious state deepens past dreams. His mind quiets due to exhaustion. In sleep, Sephiroth pulls his limbs close to his body. 

Angeal watches over him, wondering when the last time he truly slept was. How long did he hover on the edge of awareness, watching his captors under the guise of drug-induced ignorance? 

Too long. 

The black-haired SOLDIER sighs to himself, wondering how much of this could’ve been avoided had they just been faster. He knows better than to dwell. There’s nothing to be done for it now. They got him back, and enduring the consequences can only make them stronger. 

Genesis returns after an hour, a pillow in his hands. He lays down alongside the bed, pulling out his beloved _Loveless_ and reading Act II. He’s been going through it with them for a long while. Even determined as he is to stay up, he tires after the act ends. The floor appears to be more than enough comfort for him, his breaths evening out rather quickly. 

Angeal smiles. 

From his position, he can keep an eye on both of his surrogate brothers. The two of them are usually oh-so stubborn about taking care of themselves, but this time appears to be presenting him with an exception. 

Sephiroth rouses at the crack of dawn, making a small inquisitive noise. He turns, lifting a hand to his head. Moving carefully and slowly, he appears more sluggish than he had only hours previous. He’s never been much for early mornings, but no one ever sees him before he’s completely put-together. This is a first for Angeal. 

The silver-haired SOLDIER rolls over, his hand automatically pulling his hair out of the way. He opens tired green eyes. 

“ _Angeal_ _._ ” 

It’s not a question. He hasn’t turned all the way to face him, but he can sense his friend nearby. The older of them isn’t exactly surprised. Sephiroth’s perception has always been sharper than that of the average SOLDIER. 

On the upside, his voice is somewhat stronger. 

“Good morning.” 

Sephiroth hums, his expression relaxing into a smile. Something in his countenance speaks to inexplicable relief. He swallows thickly. “ _You’re still here. Genesis, too._ ”

“How do you know Genesis is here?” 

“ _I heard him reading_ Loveless _last night_.” The silver-haired SOLDIER manages a laugh, tilting his head to face Angeal. Once more, his smile is wry. “ _And he smells like those damn apples."_


End file.
